


Over Your Shoulder

by monolade



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Consensual Kink, Daddy Kink, F/M, Good Communication is Sexy, Loving Degradation, Verbal Humiliation, not in first chapter but subsequent!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:56:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monolade/pseuds/monolade
Summary: You're used to working for others. As a freelance armstech, you flit from contract to contract, never staying too long in one place. Although the freelancer life is fun, you kind of wish you could trade it all for a little bit of stability. As the maker would have it, that stability shows up in the form of one (1) Paz Viszla.
Relationships: Paz Vizsla/Original Female Character(s), Paz Vizsla/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	1. All  The Grass Is Greener Everywhere You Look

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written for fun in forever, but new year new me! If you know me in real life never bring this up because I will combust lol. I was going to fire off a brief smutty one-shot pwp thing but of course I couldn’t resist adding ~ b a c k s t o r y ~ so here you go. Subsequent updates will most likely be pwp! Apologies for the long set up, but I'm hoping it'll pay off. 
> 
> Also feel free to say hi on Tumblr @gondowan :)

Nervousness, you assumed, was a regular feeling for anyone who was newly married. Doubly so for the new spouse of a Mandalorian. Unlike the rest of the galaxy where marriage vows were somewhat loose, Mandalorians took their vows very seriously. Forever, generally meant, forever.

Your relationship with Paz Viszla was strange in and of itself. As a freelance armstech, you hopped from planet to planet offering your repair services, never staying in any one place for too long. While on Bothawui, you had let slip to a client that you were headed to Nevarro next. Greef Karga, the head of the Guild, had put you on a retainer for services to guild members for a few cycles. The pay was good, and he had promised you a steady supply of commissions from the local bounty hunters who frequented Nevarro in need of new weapons and repairs on top of the already nice stipend.

The Bothan, a short humanoid by the name of Eesk, perked up when you mentioned Nevarro, and the next day he came over as you were on your way to the spaceport.

“Can I ask a favor? Do you mind making a delivery for me while on Nevarro?” he asked, pulling a datapad out from his robes.

You looked up, eyes narrowing. Bothans were famous for their information network, and were instrumental to the destruction of the first Death Star, but still, you were understandably nervous. “ Eesk, I’m not interested in looking for trouble. I don’t need the New Republic or any Imp remnant breathing down my neck for delivering that for you,” you said.

Eesk laughed, “Relax, I promise you this isn’t serious. Just deliver this to a Mandalorian on Nevarro. It’s nothing classified, I’m just returning a favor for a friend,”. He slid over a stack of credits. “I’d take it to him myself, but unfortunately I’m held up on New Republic business”.

You reached over and tucked the datapad into your bag along with the credits, “Fine, but you owe me”.

“Next time you’re here, drinks on me.” he said as he walked away.

It was only until you had boarded the transport ship that you realized Eesk had never actually told you were to meet this Mandalorian. ‘Oh well,’ you thought, ‘he’s not getting these credits back’. You leaned your head against the wall of the ship, tired from hauling all of your luggage to the spaceport, and fell asleep.

You were three standard weeks into your contract with Greef Karga and the Guild, and still no Mandalorian had shown up to collect the datapad. It was nice to be somewhat settled in one place for longer than a week, and you had enjoyed the steady stream of work. You had also learned from Karga that the Mandalorian covert scattered from Nevarro, and he hadn’t seen one in a while. For all of their information trafficking and spy network, perhaps Eesk had gotten it wrong for once, and you didn’t really care to ask. After all, it would be nigh impossible to miss a person wearing head to toe armor, especially on Nevarro.

One morning, as you had returned from your walk to the lava plains, you discovered the door to your apartment was unlocked. Strange. Not a good sign. None of your alarms were triggered either. Carefully, you pulled your blaster out its holster before quietly pushing the door open.

“There you are. Been looking all over for you.”

A large man, clad in blue armor and covered in more weapons per square inch that any other being you had ever seen, sat next to your workstation. Despite the blaster pointed at him, he seemed unperturbed, posture open and relaxed.

“What do you want?” you asked, blaster raised, "You picked the wrong house to rob,". You had fended off your fair share of robberies, the expensive equipment you lugged around as an armstech was attractive to petty thieves, and not cheap.

“The datapad.” he said.

“I take it you’re the Mandalorian that Eesk spoke about.”

“Correct,”.

You rummage through your toolkit and dust off the datapad. “Here you go Mr. Mandalorian, although I suggest next time you knock during business hours. Breaking and entering is reserved for long term partners, and you haven’t even bought me a drink yet”. You wince a little inwardly, maybe this dry spell was affecting you more than you thought.

You tap the edge of the datapad on the Mandalorian’s chest plate. “Oh and you might want to get the blaster strapped to your thigh checked, those scorch marks are usually a bad sign,”.

The blue hunk of armor stood up and took the datapad from you. “Thank you for this,” he rumbled before heading out the door.

“Ah, so you do have manners,” you teased before moving to shut the door.

You can’t see the expression on his face, but you hear the huff of a laugh through his modulator accompanied with a shake of his shoulders.

You were pretty sure you’d never see him again.

Wrong.

The next day right as you returned from dropping off a box of repaired pistols, there he was again, blue armor and blank expressionless helmet, sitting in the same spot next to your workstation.

“Can you fix it?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a second, before remembering the comment you made yesterday. “I can take a look,”. You cross over to your workstation, turning on the light and the magnifying glass and grabbing your toolkit. It was an easy but time-consuming fix, and you quickly busied yourself with disassembling the rifle.

“You’re not from Nevarro,”. A question, posed as a statement.

You didn’t look up, “Nope, I’m just passing through.” Hmm, that power cell did not look too good.

“Where is home for you?”

“Nowhere,” you said matter-of-factly as you tinkered away, “Like most people, the Clone Wars and the Empire destroyed what little of a childhood I had. Got taken in by a kind armstech who taught me the trade, and now I hop from planet to planet making a living. What about you? I heard about what happened to the Mandalorians on this planet,”.

“Also nowhere,” the man grunted, and he remained quiet. You finished your work, and handed him the blaster, butt end first.

“You owe me two drinks now, breaking into my place like that.”

He took the blaster from you, two gloved finger tips drawing a line from the middle of your forearm down your wrist. An unnecessary movement, he could’ve just taken the blaster. You gulped. He put the gun back in its holster and leaned forward.

“I might, if you ask nicely. I saw the way you sized me up the first time,”.

You swallowed, mouth going dry. “It’s uh, part of my line of work. Gotta make sure everyone’s packing-- I mean, everyone’s weapons are in tip top shape.” Your stupid lizard brain, at it again.

He cocked his head to the side, “I’m sure it is,” the mirth evident in his tone.

Every evening thereafter, the blue Mandalorian showed up at your doorstep, a new weapon in hand for you to look at. It was nice, you had to admit to yourself. A consistency in your otherwise inconsistent life, and you grew to enjoy his company. What you couldn’t handle however, was the escalating tension between the two of you. He would occasionally stand behind you, his big, all-encompassing frame brushing up against your back, and lean over you to ask about this or that. The first time you thought it was an accident, but then he followed up with an oh-so-casual touch of your wrist, and you were pretty sure it was on purpose, but you also couldn’t tell if that was wishful thinking on your part. Occasionally the two of you would strike up a conversation, but for the most part he sat in a comfortable silence while you worked. When he came over the fourth night, large gattling gun in tow, you decided it was high time to try to get to know him better.

“Uh...would you like to stay for dinner?”, eyes looking down on the (ancient) gattling gun, trying to keep your voice light.

He paused and shook his head “I can’t,”.

Oh, an immediate shut down. Great. Well it was worth a shot.

“Not for the reason you think. I can’t remove my helmet in the presence of others, that’s part of the creed,”.

That made a lot of sense. You hadn’t come across many Mandalorians in your travels, but all of them were rather cagey about their armor and helmet. You had assumed it was due to the value of beskar, but this was the first time you had heard about this creed.

You looked up at him. “Don’t you ever get lonely?” you blurted out, the words forming on your tongue before your brain could shut you down. “Nevermind-- I’m sorry I-”

He interjected, “Sometimes. There are some exceptions though,”.

You leaned forward. “Such as?”.

A pause. He stepped forward, tipping your chin up with a finger.

“ Would you care to find out?”


	2. Can I Get A Birds Eye View?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy first Monday of 2021 y'all. This is 100% all smut with a dash of Paz's POV.

_“Would you care to find out?”_

If you had asked Paz Viszla what he would be doing that day, making a move on the (charming) armstech would not be on the list. He had originally come back to Nevarro on a tip and to see what was left of the Covert, and what could be moved to the new location. He hadn’t planned to stay for too long, but the Bothan’s annoying non-description of who had the datapad stretched Paz’s stay from three days to two weeks. He wasn’t exactly a tracker, that was always a task better suited for someone such as Djarin. 

After gently persuading the local dockmaster for a list of new arrivals to Nevarro, he had worked down the list to arrive at the new Guild armstech. She had just arrived a week ago from Bothanui, and set up shop next to the cantina at Greef Karga’s request. Unfortunately, Paz didn’t quite have the luxury of just walking into her workshop. For one, it was constantly busy; day in and day out the woman saw a steady stream of clients, all heavily armed and odds were at least two of them would not be happy to see a Mandalorian. Secondly, he had managed to stay out of the New Republic and the Guild’s radar long enough, and he vastly preferred keeping it that way. Blue beskar and gattling gun(s) were not exactly conducive to blending in with crowds. So, the next logical step of course was to break in quietly, hope he didn’t cause a scene, and leave Nevarro. 

Except it didn’t quite pan out that way. Paz had managed to disable the apartment’s security system (not an easy task, this woman was clearly no amateur, he was quite impressed) but she had come back a bit earlier than he expected. 

Fuck. 

The first thing he saw was her blaster, safety off and pointed directly at him. “What do you want?” she asked. For someone coming face to face with an intruder, she didn’t appear nervous at all-- that probably had to do with her skill not just in weapons repair but weapons writ large. He also saw her giving him a twice-over, gaze lingering on his body, how curious. 

Paz cut straight to the chase, hoping to avoid making a scene “The datapad,”.

The woman relaxed and rummaged through her toolkit before walking right up to his face. That was new. Most people, even ones who might call Paz a friend, chose to keep their distance. Either this armstech had nerves of steel or he was losing his touch. “You might want to get this blaster checked,” she motioned at his thighs, “Those scorch marks are usually a bad sign,”. Her gaze lingered briefly and Paz was grateful for his helmet and armor for concealing his expression.

Paz took the datapad, verified its contents, and turned to leave. “Thank you for this,”. 

“Ah, so you do have manners,” she teased, voice bright before she shut the door. 

What a strange being.

Against his better judgement, Paz showed up the next night. And subsequent nights after that. It was for his own good, he justified to himself, with the Armorer out of reach for the time being, his arsenal did need a good onceover. The other part of him just really wanted to get to know this woman better. She was definitely good at her craft, and carried herself with a general air of confidence, standing up to idiots who wanted to underpay or worse, tried to flirt with her for discounts. She was a by the books type of person, and was polite with clients, but kept to herself despite invitations for a drink from cocky guild members. 

She had also taken to calling him Blue, which amused Paz greatly. 

“Uh...would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked, eyes flickering briefly at him before returning to the gattling gun on his table. He could tell that she was trying to keep her voice casual, but her shoulders were tense.

Paz really wanted to, but blast, the Creed. “I can’t..but not for the reason you think. I can’t remove my helmet in the presence of others...it’s part of being a Mandalorian”. 

He could see the disappointment manifest in your body, and the knowledge that he was the one to do that to you disturbed him greatly. 

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” 

That was not the follow up question Paz was expecting. Truth be told, he was. The Covert had scattered, and the people he loved were either dead in the ground, missing, or far away. Maybe that was part of what drew him to this particular woman. Something consistent to look forward to, even if it was only for the past week or so. There was also the matter of the bantha in the room-- the rising tension demarcated as of late by light touches on her wrist or at the shell of her ear followed by cheeks flushing red. Paz wondered if she flushed red elsewhere as well. 

“Would you care to find out?”

* * *

It felt like the air was sucked out of your tiny apartment. You could hear the blood pounding in your heart, ears ringing as you came to grips with the situation. Was he asking what you thought he was asking? 

As if he could see the gears turning in your mind, the Mandalorian chuckled, thumb running across your bottom lip “A simple yes or no will suffice. I won’t take what isn’t freely given,”. 

You wondered what it would be like to bite his glove off. What his hands would feel like. Yours were callused from years of mechanical work

“Yes.” you whispered, leaving a gentle kiss on his finger. 

He leaned closer, helmet grazing the side of your cheek as the vocoder crackled, “That was the response I was hoping for,”. He turned you around with a gentle push of his arm, “Let me take you to bed.” 

This was actually happening. You took his hand, looking for an anchor as you led him to your room. As soon as you were there, the brief bravado you had summoned earlier started to dissipate. You settled for helping him take off his bulky armor, pauldrons, greaves, and cuirass forming a neat pile by your bed, until he was left in his helmet and sinfully tight undershirt and pants. It was then that you realized that while the armor added a lot to his frame, he was just big to begin with, easily dwarfing you. 

Maker, you didn’t even know his name. You had barely met. Was this really happening? Yes, you had wanted him but was this too soon? Were you being too forward? 

“Stop thinking,” he growled, breaking you out of your reverie. He took your hands in his, laying gentle kisses over your knuckles, a kind gesture probably to try to assuage your fears. A thoughtful gesture from someone who lived and breathed war. He helps you out of your top, carefully peeling it off of you, making appreciative noises as you become more and more exposed. Your pants come off next, and inwardly you wish you had the foresight to wear something nicer than what you had on, but that feeling washes away when his fingers dip just inside the waistband of your underwear, teasing. 

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, right hand coming up to cup your face in a reassuring gesture. “I’m safe just so you know, I got my implant checked recently,”. You echo his statement, inwardly thanking yourself for keeping up to date with your health. 

He held your discarded scarf in the other, “If I cover your eyes I can--” 

You closed your eyes, already anticipating his ask. No turning back now, you were all in. You heard him take a sharp intake of breath before carefully wrapping the scarf around your eyes. It was...nice. Without the gift of sight you couldn’t worry about how you looked or what to do. Paradoxically, you felt a little freer than you ever had. You heard of the clunk of the helmet being placed on the ground, and then, his lips were pressing on yours. 

Softly at first, an almost chaste movement, as if he were gauging your response, trying to make sure he wasn’t overstepping. It was sweet, but you didn’t come this far for that. You wrapped your arms around him, deepening the kiss, mouth opening to try to convey your desires. It had been a while, you were going to make the most out of this, however fleeting it may be. 

You could feel him smiling a little against your mouth and empowered by your kiss, he moved his hands down, thumbs caressing your throat, enjoying the way your breath hitched. He slowly mapped your body, making you giggle when his stubble cheek grazed your collarbones. Down and back up your arms, laying kisses down your sternum and your stomach, and the back up your legs. Carefully and methodically. 

You could feel yourself getting wetter, and tried to squeeze your thighs for some friction, anything to help with the pressure. He laughed as he held your thighs apart, “No, not yet,”. 

“Blue I…,” you squirmed, fidgeting against his hold. 

His voice piped up from between your legs, “It’s Paz.”

You blinked under the blindfold. “What?”.

“My name is Paz Viszla,” he murmured, tongue licking a strip up your inner thigh. You shivered. 

Ohhh. “Paz…” you murmured, trying out his name on your tongue, “Paz.”

Paz’s mouth trailed upwards towards your center. “Careful sweetheart, gonna give me ideas with the way you call my name,”. His hands slid back up your torso tracing a line right along the underside of your breasts while his lips continued to ghost around your inner thighs. You could almost feel his breath on your clit, and your attempts to grind onto something are met with empty air. 

You whined, desperate for more sensation, “Hurry up, I haven’t got all night” you huffed. This was supposed to be a quick fuck. You were used to quick one night stands with random fly guys, all rushed and without much pomp and circumstance. This pace was killing you, albeit in a good way. 

You were rewarded with a slight pinch to your nipples, and your body arched, chasing the crumb of sensation. Paz continued to work your nipples, alternating between rubbing them with the soft pads of your fingers and pinching them. Hazily, you thought about asking him to pull. 

“So sensitive,” he murmured as if he was describing the weather and not as if he was torturing you by sucking a bruise right at the valley where your torso meets your leg.

You pout, the thought of saying please at ready on your tongue. Anything for more. 

“Impatient aren’t you? Too used to having it your way? That’ll be something to work on next time,”

As much as you were loath to admit it, the admission of “next time” filled you with a funny sensation. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be just a one time thing. But now was not the time to interrogate that. You jerk your head down at his general direction, “Paz, I swear to whoever if you don’t touch me---”

“I am touching you sweetheart. This is called foreplay,”

“I should’ve shot you that night you broke in.” you retort, pretending to be exasperated. You had fantasized about what it would be like to fuck the man underneath the blue beskar, but slow and teasing were not in your assumptions. If he wasn’t doing such sublime things to your nipples, you might actually kill him, you think. You can feel Paz finally lifting his head from your thighs, hands continuing their torture of your chest. He presses kisses on the underside of your jaw and on your neck, clearly enjoying the way you fuss around to look for more. 

You want something, anything more than what he’s giving you. “It’s not my first time you know, I don’t need---”. 

“Oh I know, but this is your first time with _me_ ,” and with that he finally palms your crotch, finally giving you some sweet pressure at your center. He slips a finger in between your folds, drawing circles around your clit with the back of his knuckle. Fuck, that’s nice. 

“Remember to breathe,” Paz says, a smug tone evident against the crook of your neck. Two can play at this game, you decide, moving your arm up, aiming blindly for his crotch. Paz quickly side steps you with a swiftness that belies his frame and he swats at your thigh, causing you to yelp. 

“Nice try but...let me take care of you. Will you let me hmm? I can make it so good for you,” he murmurs, one hand continuing to rub your clit, the other massaging the spot he had hit on your leg, his tone making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

That exact sequence of words tickles something in the back of your mind. A desire to be soft, pliant, and obedient for this beautiful and dangerous man. To hand over the reigns of your pleasure to him. You sigh, and let down your guard. 

* * *

Paz can feel the exact moment you decide to stop fighting him. He wasn’t expecting all of this so soon, and it was definitely something that they’d have to discuss later to set limits and boundaries, but fuck if it wasn’t sexy to see this beautiful woman allow him to pleasure her in the way that he wanted. He had long nourished a desire to be a caretaker in one way or another, but the life of a Mandalorian was not exactly conducive to relationships built on so many layers of trust and understanding. The possibility of you made his head spin a little.

Paz thinks about what it would be like to ruin you, this beautiful and talented specimen. He doesn’t even register how hard he is and how uncomfortable his pants are as he drinks in the sight of you laid out on the bed in front of him, nipples hard, pussy wet, mouth open, wanting, wanting him. Paz wasn’t quite sure what possessed him to move immediately to blindfolds and taking his helmet off (he’s done that all of once in his adult life), but he knew he would absolutely regret it if he didn’t get to kiss and taste you before the night was over. He goes back on his knees in front of you. 

* * *

You can feel his breath on your clit again and his finger tracing your entrance and you make a noise in anticipation.

“There we go. Just relax, fuck, gonna make this so good for you,” he whispers, slowly inserting his finger into your pussy. You’re so wet that it slips in easily, and Paz moves his finger in and out, exploring you. It’s nice to have something for you to hold on to, but it’s not quite enough. 

As if he can read your mind, you feel a second finger at your entrance and right as Paz slips it in, you also feel his tongue on your clit. You blindly reach over, feeling his short hair under your hand, nails digging into his scalp right as he puts his mouth over you and _sucks_. 

Paz lets out an appreciative hum as he works your pussy with his fingers and your clit with his mouth. His tongue works broad flat movements up and down your sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers methodically push and pull at your center. You bite your lip as the sensations intensify, pulling at Paz’s hair as he continues his precise movements. 

“Please Paz— I’m gonna-,”

“Ah, so you do have manners,” he chuckles, his voice muffled by your thighs. Faintly, you register that you had said that to him the first night he broke in, that jerk. You have no idea how he manages to stay so infuriatingly calm while he breaks you down. Your mind scrambles to keep a hold of your dignity. “Unnh--- if you keep this up Viszla, I might--ah fuck- I might have to keep you around”, hips gyrating to meet his tongue.

Paz laughed, “Promises promises. I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, if you continue to play nice,”. His mouth leaves your clit just as you’re approaching your peak and you cry out in frustration. So close. You press back into his fingers, trying to get a hold of just a little more sensation 

You hear him hastily pull down his pants and truth be told you had forgotten he was still fully dressed the entire time while you were completely naked, which somehow made this all the more obscene. You can feel the head of his cock at your entrance as he withdraws his fingers. 

“Are you ready?”, blunt head of his cock moving up and down your folds.

You whimper and nod, but he doesn’t move.

“I need you to use your words sweetheart. Do you want this?”, soft kisses pressing against your temple. 

You turn towards him, searching for his lips and in a brief moment of lucidity, you whisper “I want you Paz”. You can feel the immediate effect of your acquiesce in his sharp intake of breath. 

“I’d give you a warning, but I think we’re past that,” he growls. Before you can ask him what he means, Paz thrusts into you with one fluid motion, slick covered fingers intertwined with yours. You gasp at the intrusion, the sensation almost overwhelming. He was much bigger than you anticipated, and the stretch instinctively made you tense up. Paz holds your hand tighter, “It’s ok, just...just relax, let your body adjust to me,”. You can hear the strain in his voice as he fights against the instinct to rut. 

As your body adjusts, he slowly pulls out part way before pushing back in, testing your limits. For a brief moment, there were no words, just your breathing as you focused on the sensation of him filling you, the warmth of his chest on yours, all tying into a wonderful feedback loop. 

“Talk to me,”.

You only have one thing to say to him.

“Harder,”. 

Paz squeezes your hand lightly, acknowledging your request before grabbing your ankles and putting them at his shoulders. 

“Remember, you asked for this,” he whispers, a dangerous edge to his voice and you think about just how easily this man could engulf you and shiver. Before you can make a smart remark, he hoists your hands above your head, holding your wrists down with one hand, and fully thrusts into you, bending you in half and hitting impossibly deeper. You couldn’t push back against him even if you wanted to, and Paz sets a brutal rhythm, the push and pull of his hips fills the air with the sound of your bodies hitting together and all you can do is wrap your legs around him and take it. 

An endless litany of half-formed phrases, come out of your lips, but each thrust knocks the air out of your lungs, so you settle for holding onto him as he threatens to overwhelm you. Above you, Paz groans as he rolls his hips into you, “I knew you’d be perfect---fuck-- knew it as soon as I saw you that night. Dig those nails into me sweetheart,” he says, releasing your hands, cutting through the haze in your mind and you obey, nails digging in to try to get some purchase on his back. “Fuck yeah that’s it, show me how much you like this,”.

You can feel his rhythm start to falter as he gets close, and you squeeze down on his cock as he pulls out. Paz sputters, “No, not yet, shit--” he says, reaching down again towards your clit, lips pressed onto yours again as he works you up higher and higher, over the edge. 

“Please, may I cum please please Paz--” you moan into his mouth. Normally, you would just take what you can get and finish, but something about Paz makes you want to ask, to be granted permission and it’s a dangerous high filling your mind, washing away any sense of shame or guilt because all you can do right now is take what he gives you. 

You can’t hear him say yes but rather feel him mouth the words against your cheek and vaguely you can hear him encouraging you as he continues the unrelenting pressure on your clit and inside your pussy. You gasp and the tension inside your body builds and builds, and you let go, letting your orgasm wash over you, arching your back, thankful for the blindfold to hide your eyes rolling back and all you can think about is how full and how good you feel stuffed with his cock inside and his fingers on your nerves. 

As you come back to reality you can hear Paz curse, “Where do you want it?” he asks roughly. 

You smile, giddy from your release, and in a moment of brilliance, you tell him “ I want it on my face... _sir_ ,”. 

Paz chokes and his body seizes up at the sound of your words and he barely pulls out in time before spilling all over you, most of it landing on your chest and neck as he finishes on top of you. You preen under him, glad that your words have their desired effect, and your head falls back to catch your breath. 

He kisses your ankles, broad hands running up and down your thighs in a soothing gesture as he also tries to regain his breath. 

“Caught me off guard there,”

You smile at him, “I can be full of surprises,”.

Paz chuckles as he presses a kiss to your cheek before reaching around for his helmet. Once it’s on, he carefully removes the scarf from your eyes, thumbs brushing over your closed eyelids before pressing your forehead to his. 

“I don’t doubt that at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hi @gondowan on Tumblr :) I haven't written smut in forever, so any gentle feedback/comments always appreciated.


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